Howl
by Super Lizard
Summary: The war in Lylat is over, and Wolf O'Donnel is a fugitive. How does a war criminal escape an entire galaxy, and how strong are wolven loyalties? Rated for language, violence, and suspense.
1. Prologue: The End

Howl

by Super Lizard

Begun 22:15 1 May 2007

Prologue

Wolf O'Donnel's heart pounded in his chest wildly, painfully. His breath was short and every muscle in his body burned from the exertion of the frantic run. He was running towards the only kind of shelter he could see, the only hiding place. A silver ship gleamed in the waning sunlight; he couldn't see any kind of identification markings, not with the way his good eye was disobeying him-- his electronic eye had malfunctioned long ago, and there was no place to go to repair it, now that he was fugitive. He couldn't focus on anything but the possibility of an escape, of an end to the chase that didn't involve death.

He approached the ship just as the gangplank descended and his steps began to falter. His pulse began to skip, to double, then skip again. His throat and chest seized, and he fell to the dusty earth; he dug his fingers into the dirt and pushed himself up, one hand clutching his chest as he lifted his gaze to the entrance of the ship. _They may not find me there._ His eye focused on the figures emerging from the ship-- four of them. All of them armed. All of their stances threatening. All of their faces familiar.

Fox McCloud and crew stared at him down the barrels of their blasters, but did not fire.

Wolf wheezed, struggled to breath, to bring his physical self back under the control of his mind. "Can't... keep running... they will... if you don't..." His body rebelled, and his eye clouded. He sank slowly back to the earth, still grasping at his chest over his heart. "If I don't..." He grunted as his chest seized again. His eye registered the shape of a boot in front of his face. He reached out shakily and set his hand on it. "No pack. No honour. No hope." He struggled to lift his head, to look his enemy in the eye-- but could not. "Ius canis. I die without honour." His vision turned dark, and he knew only blackness and pain.


	2. One: Run

Howl

by Super Lizard

Begun 22:15 1 May 2007

Chapter One – Run

Party to the end of the war, Wolf O'Donnel crashed on the surface of Venom. The ground was unforgiving, his body was left unprotected by the previous crash, in which his fur had been largely burned away and had not grown back as of yet. His electronic eye was unable to stand the radiation on the planet's surface, and had been the first thing to malfunction. The poison in the planet's atmosphere seared his lungs, but also smothered the flames on his ship. That worry gone, he attempted to communicate with his team-mates via radio, and was unsuccessful. With a booted foot, he kicked out the cockpit hatch and climbed out of his ship, standing on the wing and looking about.

There were three smouldering ships in view, all of them of the Wolfen class, all of them with his team's identification markings. He slid to the ground and set off at a jog, his natural wolven endurance speeding him along with the least necessary oxygen. Even then, he was out of breath at the first ship.

Andrew's ship. He clambered up to the cockpit, only to encounter the charred remains of his boss's nephew. The mercenary bowed his head for a few moments, and said a short prayer for the soul of his team-mate. He slipped back to the ground and jogged to the next ship. Pigma's. There was hardly any way the pilot could have survived the crash, but Wolf climbed up the wreckage and pulled away the cockpit hatch, reached in to check for the other man's pulse-- there was none. He bowed his head and said another prayer, then set off at a dead run for the third ship. He picked his way over the twisted remains of the ship, and pried open the hatch. Leon's eyes snapped open and they stared at each other for a moment.

"Can you move?" Wolf demanded roughly.

"Of course. I was conserving the last of my clean air, before you so rudely destroyed my hatch," Leon sneered at him. "Waiting to be rescued. Again."

Wolf ignored his tone, and looked up towards the planet's red sky. "I don't think we're getting rescued this time. Our forces have been destroyed. Even if Andross survives McCloud, it would take a fucking miracle for him to survive the rest of Lylat."

The lizard scowled and climbed out of the cockpit, pressing a cloth over his mouth and nose. "Do you have some sort of escape plan, fearless leader?"

He pressed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to work around the burning in his lungs and towards a viable plan of action. "There's a provisionary lab carved into the rock of the Telar Canyon, over the plateau east of us. Climbing will be difficult, but not impossible."

"In this provisionary lab, is there some way of escaping this Lylatian army that seems to be descending on us like the hand of God?" Leon asked sardonically.

"No, but there's clean air, and that's something. We can at least hide for awhile, until a better opportunity presents itself." Wolf jumped back down to the dusty surface, and began to jog towards the east; he heard Leon do the same behind him.

The plateau _was _a difficult climb, especially with no gear and Leon bitching about the poison in the air. By the time they emerged in the Telar Canyon, they were both coughing sufficiently to stop them from any unnecessary speech. The jog to the north end of the canyon was taxing, and ended with Leon collapsing some way from the lab.

Wolf growled to himself and threw his team-mate over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and continued to the airlock. He fumbled with his flight suit pockets, located his ID card, and swiped it, then stumbled into the airlock. He set Leon down as it closed behind him, and sank to the ground to the sound of clean air hissing into the space.

Wolf awoke again, lungs and eye burning; Leon was shaking him in a somewhat concerned manner. He began to speak, but ended up hacking instead. His companion released him in disgust as he spat a wad of yellow guck onto the metal floor.

"You got us to the provisionary lab," Leon informed him, "But there doesn't appear to be anyone here-- Venomian _or _Lylatian. The entire place was on standby-- still is. I didn't think it wise to be attracting too much attention."

The other man nodded, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and struggling to analyse the information. "If Andross got away, he would be here within minutes." He paused to cough again.

"Apparently, he did not get away."

Wolf nodded again. "That makes us fugitives."

"We're mercenary-- the law is that we were on our own side," Leon reasoned. "Therefore, as we were only fulfilling assignments from a contract, we are about as guilty as Fox McCloud."

"Public opinion is, we're war criminals," Wolf pointed out. "They'll find a way to charge us."

The lizard hesitated, then conceded the point with a moment of silence. "We could disguise ourselves as support staff, or prisoners."

"Everyone knows us."

"Plead insanity?"

"Insanity is just another reason to have us executed, really."

"Live out our years in a provisionary lab carved into the walls of a canyon on a planet where the very atmosphere is poisonous, only to die from deterioration of our lungs?"

Wolf laughed until he coughed, appreciatory of his friend's dry humour. "They'll find us. And they'll find us sooner rather than later. We have got to get off this rock. Did you look around while I was out?"

Leon nodded.

"What kinds of transportation exist?"

"A garbage truck, capable of flight at five feet. A supply shuttle, capable of atmospheric flight. A crate ferry, capable of interplanetary, intra-galactic flight. All are fuelled. The flight bay opens to a tunnel."

"What kind of time on filtered Atmo do we have?"

"On standby, we have whatever air was in here when we entered. Perhaps a few hours. Powered up, it can filter indefinitely."

Wolf pressed his eye closed again, feeling the soft current of the air on his ear tips.

"The hairless look is flattering."

"I'd look better with scales."

"You said it, I didn't."

He smiled slightly, knowing that Leon was insulting him to lighten his mood. The lizard was terse and cruel with people he did not know, but he was almost friendly with his allies. "Have to power up to open the flight bay?"

"Yes. Also, I raided the galley while you were out. There's a fair selection of freeze-dried refuse masquerading as food."

Wolf opened his eye and shot him a quizzical look. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"About a day and a half. I had to put the oxygen mask on you for the first day. When I woke up, you were barely breathing."

He paused for a long moment, and regarded his friend gravely. "Thank you. Now let's get the hell out of here."

"What's the plan, boss?"

"Take the crate ferry. Launch, and set to autopilot. Get in the crate, seal up, and jettison near the outskirts of a wreck zone. Float until we get picked up by scavengers; kill the scavengers, then take the scavenger ship, and we've got transportation."

"Transportation to go... where?" Leon asked pointedly. "We're fugitives."

"Better to have wings than be sitting in this hole."

"We could wait out the worst of it here," he suggested. "After the media is done crucifying the enemies of the state, we could emerge from hiding and seek jobs as mercs again."

Wolf sighed, wishing that were possible. "Air runs out soon. We'll have to power up the facility. The minute we power up, we're visible from space. Lylatians roll by, scan for electromagnetic signatures indicating any kind of civilization, and we're fucked."

Leon nodded. "I'll load every oxygen canister I can find onto the crate ferry, and some food. There are a few contained flight suits on the flight deck." Wolf started to stand up to help, but Leon pushed him back onto the bed. "You stay here focus on breathing. I may be brilliant in most everything, but you're the one that makes the plans. Crazy mammals." He sauntered away muttering half-friendly curses.

Wolf sank back to the bunk where he awoke, and closed his good eye against the growing ache in his skull. His electronic eye wasn't putting out any kind of readable signal, just short and irregular pulses of electricity that his brain couldn't read. He placed his hand on his temple and forced the device out slowly, grinding his teeth to quiet his whine of pain. When it was clear of his eye socket, he pinched off the electronic connection at his optic nerve, and placed it aside. His headache cleared almost immediately, but the cold air of the lab blew into the vacancy most unpleasantly. A few bits of sterile gauze and some tape sealed it from view, and he found himself wishing for his eye patch.

Leon returned some time later, and regarded him with a sidelong stare. "I order you to rest, and you pull parts off yourself."

"Broken."

"So is mine."

"It was giving me a headache."

"Hn. The ship is ready."

Wolf wheezed and spat another mouthful of yellow guck into the nearest basin. "How much filtered Atmo do you think we've got left?"

Leon squinted his good eye and did the calculation in his head. "You were on the oxygen mask for a day, I was for a few hours. But it's been awhile, and I haven't noticed a significant shift in the air quality since we entered. We most likely have another day or two before the place becomes unusable."

He sat back on the bunk and breathed thickly. "Let's wait a few hours before we leave. Let the Lylatians have their way with the surface for a bit; some will leave. Make it easier to..." he yawned widely, then hacked and spat another mouthful of guck into the basin. "Easier to give them the slip."

The lizard nodded and climbed gratefully onto the opposite bunk. "We could certainly use the rest. And by we, I mean you."

Wolf didn't argue; he simply lay back on his bunk. Almost before his eye closed, he was asleep.

Author's Note: I'm particularly fond of presenting villains in a sympathetic light, but you will see plenty of the evil in these two in the chapters to come. I was inspired to write this after reading author Fatality's story 'Hello', regarding the execution of Wolf O'Donnel. What might have happened to him, if he had turned fugitive? My original mental construct involved wolfish qualities-- loyalty, endurance, pack mentality, sharp fangs; and the image of him running only to have all of his escapes turn sour. I hope to keep this fiction inside the realm of suspense / action, but I have a tendency to drift towards angst. There will be no slash in this fiction.


	3. Two: Hide

Chapter Two: Hide

The air became heavy and laden with carbonic acid some hours later; they were on the flight deck when Wolf first noticed. Leon, however, was the first person to put words to the observation

"Is it just me, or does this place smell like ass?"

Wolf chuckled to himself even as his nose twitched. "It does. The air is getting rank. We've been here too long."

"Don't blame it on me, mammal. _You've _been here too long." Leon smirked as he climbed into the crate ferry and secured the helmet on his flight suit.

"Start it up," he ordered. He jogged over to the control panel on the wall, secured his flight suit helmet, and threw the switch for the bay door. A thunderous engine started up somewhere in the canyon wall, and the great metal doors opened. A rush of poisoned air rushed in, rustling his flight suit as he bounded back over to the carrier and up the gangplank before Leon could think of taking off without him.

"Door closing," Leon announced over their in-helmet radio. True enough, the gangplank retracted and a steel shuttered door slammed down over the entrance. "Lifting off. You might want to hold on to something."

Wolf was already at the cargo compartment wall and strapping himself in.

The take-off was rough; the ship was small and very old, but one of the reliable old clunkers that private cargo companies keep because they never did break badly enough to be replaced. Such was probably the reason it was in the provisionary lab. However, the older vehicle did not have G-diffusers, being that it was not designed for combat flight. To add to this, Leon hovered along at about 30 feet from the ground for a few miles, staying in the valley for as long as possible and getting as far as possible from the main Venomian base before rising up to the plateau level and putting on speed. When he was going a few hundred miles per hour, he forced the controls back and began their assent out of the atmosphere.

They came up on the dark side of the planet, both feeling nauseous and well-shaken. Leon cut the engines and shut down all but the basic electrical systems, and they hung in low orbit. It was several minutes before either of them trusted themselves enough to speak without throwing up.

"I fucking hate these Nissa '485s," Leon swore.

Wolf chuckled. "Quit complaining, you're wasting your air."

The chameleon was already pulling up charts of the area when Wolf joined him in the tiny two-seater cockpit. "We're on the dark side of the planet. No one seems to be out here-- not even the Lylatians. Everything on the surface looks dark, so no sign of our side, either."

His commander traced a route across the chart silently with one finger, then paused thoughtfully for a moment before drawing two more. "We can go counter-rotation and get around to the dawn side, then turn around and jettison, and hope someone picks us up in the Lylatian-occupied territory. Or, we can go with rotation and get around to the dusk side, then turn around and jettison, and float into Area 6, and hope someone picks us up in the scavenger's territory. Or, we can dodge around the south pole and float as far into the system as we can before someone makes radio contact, then we can play lame and try and get them to pick us up."

"Not that last choice," Leon vetoed after a moment's consideration. "With our luck, they'll recognize us before we can board. And there's bound to be a bounty on both our heads."

Wolf nodded. "Let's get picked up by scavengers, then. They're safer."

Leon tapped out the course on the computer flight plan, and set some bogus, outdated identification and flight information into the Nav-Satt, to read when anyone scanned the ship. "Now, we sit back and wait."

And wait they did. They shut down the engines when they came upon the dusk side of the planet, and after a final thrust of the attitudinal thrusters, they locked themselves in the cargo bay, set the airlock, and jettisoned by remote. Thus floating free, they spent a day or so. They helped each other replace their air tanks as they ran dry. Finally, they heard the reverberations of a metal clamp grasping the cargo unit. Quickly, they crawled into a large shipping crate and sealed themselves in.

The cargo unit rocked as it was repositioned and fastened to whatever manner of ship had plucked them out of space. A few hours later, the cargo unit began to heat up considerably as the scavenger ship entered the atmosphere of some or other planet. Another hour still, and the ship rocked as it touched the surface and powered down.

There were voices outside the cargo unit. Wolf and Leon removed their flight suit helmets and set them aside, enjoying the fresh planetary air even as they drew their blasters and crouched, ready to pounce upon whatever unlucky person opened their hiding place. No one came, however; the voices faded with distance after a few minutes.

Patiently, the mercenaries waited. After a few hours, the unit began to cool. They ditched the flight suits; Wolf unlatched the crate and they crept out. No light shown in from the outside cracks-- wherever they were, it was dark. The sounds of waves reached Wolf's keen ears, muffled slightly by the walls of the unit. They waited still longer, then opened the cargo unit hatch and climbed out silently.

The strong smell of salt water and petroleum overpowered even the wolf's sense of smell. He resorted to his hearing and sight, and his partner's ability to sense movement. They examined every possible view from the shadow of the cargo unit. The moon was high and bright, lighting everything around them in an eerie silver glow. They, their cargo unit, and no less than three scavenger planes were borne upon a freight barge on a black and silver ocean.

Wolf shot a glance to Leon and then looked meaningfully to one of the other planes; they were about to make a run for one when a sudden sound distracted them.

Behind the ship which carried their cargo unit, voices chatted softly and amiably. A quiet drum-beat underscored their conversation, but no one seemed to be paying it any heed.

"Sing us something, Morphea," a male voice casually suggested.

"Perhaps," a strong female voice replied non-committally. "Perhaps I'll sing about the plains."

A few voices answered with wordless, wistful hrmph's and hm's.

Leon held up six fingers.

Wolf signed 'Hold.' He sniffed the air critically, then remained very still. 'Wait,' he signed. 'possible they sleep soon.'

Leon shifted into a place where he could crouch comfortably behind the cargo unit, and immediately took up a bored countenance. He kept his weapon in hand, however.

They sat patiently for a couple more hours as the group bantered and played. Wolf identified four females and two males-- an unusual grouping, for scavengers. They referred to their children on more than one account, and Wolf gathered that these children were on board the barge, but below-decks, and probably asleep. He gathered that one of the females was ill or perhaps injured, by the way that the others kept asking her if she needed anything or if she was in pain. One of the males seemed particularly literate, and one of the females was clearly the leader. After some hours, the injured female was ushered below-decks by the more verbose male. The numbers thus dwindled temporarily to four. There was a bit of quiet, then the drumbeat struck up again and someone was playing a sad tune on the flute. It was a few moments before a female voice joined the flute-- however, she did not sing.

She howled.

Wolf's heart stopped beating, and his breath caught in his throat. All at once, he was hearing about plains and forests and stars and running and family and Home with a capital H. He was hearing what it was like to hunt with a pack, picking out targets from a field of quarry amongst a field of stars, running or flying with everything he needed at his side in the form of his family. He was hearing what it was like to bear a life and teach it and protect it, then to one day have it protect him. He was hearing what it was like to be chased down and watch family die, and a little part of him howled along with the strong, smooth, sorrowful voice-- howled for every sibling he had watched die, every partner he had watched crash, every enemy he had not driven away.

Leon shook his shoulder roughly as the last tone died away, and he snapped out of his reverie. 'Focus,' the chameleon signed at him.

Wolf bit the inside of his cheek and focused on the physical pain, focused on the burning in his lungs, focused on the feel of the cold steel blaster in his hand-- anything, but that terrible, amazing song.

The wind shifted, and suddenly the voice, the drums, and the flute fell silent. The only sound was the waves breaking on the side of the barge.

'Scent,' Wolf signed quickly, standing and readying himself; beside him, Leon was on his feet and ready to run for the nearest ship. Before they could move, there were blasters aimed at them from above and to the sides, and a voice was ordering them not to move.

Wolf raised his hands in the air, holding his blaster muzzle-down by the barrel. Leon followed suit. They looked around carefully.

A family-- no, a pack-- a pack of wolves was standing to either side and on the top of the cargo unit, and had their sights on them. All of them were heavily tattooed and dressed eccentrically, as scavengers often do.

"Identify yourselves," the female on the crate ordered.

Wolf shot Leon a glance, then looked up at her. "I am Wolf O'Donnel, and this is my partner, Leon Powalski. We stowed away on tha-- oof!"

Leon elbowed him sharply in the side. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.

"They'll know if we're lying," he growled, rubbing his bruised ribs in irritation. "They're _wolves,_ you dumbass."

"Just because you've finally run into someone your species doesn't mean you can just go--" Leon began fiercely, turning in and giving Wolf a shove.

Wolf shoved him right back. "YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, reptile! You _hatched,_ you don't know what a family is!"

Leon threw a right hook, which tossed Wolf backwards. Wolf punched him right back. They wrestled for a few moments before the wolves on ground level tried to break it up, pulling them away from each other.

This was exactly what they had hoped would happen. The mercenaries snapped their heads backwards simultaneously and whirled on the other wolves, taking them to the ground in a few short moves. Unfortunately, before they could raise their weapons, the wolves on the platform shot them down, and everything went dark.

Wolf awoke with a very bad headache. He tested his hands (tied at the wrist) and his feet (tied at the ankle) before he sat up, and scooted back against what felt to be a wall. The room he was in was very, very dark. "Leon?" he called tentatively.

No answer.

"Powalski," he barked.

No answer. He reached blindly around the cell, and encountered only the four walls, and a pile of blankets on the floor. He was unable to discern a door until it opened.

Light shone down at him, and in silhouette he recognized the woman wolf from previously. She was flanked by a woman and a man, both of whom held blasters at ready. "Awake, are we?" she chuckled. "It sure did take you a long time."

"Where's Leon?" he demanded instead.

"We have him, don't worry." The woman stepped into the room carefully, but her gaze did not stray from his face. "We're thinking of calling the Cornerian Army. There's quite a price on both of your hides." She knelt right outside of his rope-limited striking range. "But we can be convinced not to."

Wolf growled in irritation. "We're _fugitives._ We escaped Venom with our lives. That's all. Oh, and that cargo unit you picked us up in. You're welcome to it."

She smirked and shook her head. "You're one of the best pilots in this system. Possibly in the galaxy. It would be damn nice to have someone like you at our side; and you _are _a mercenary, are you not?" She pulled a black cloth eye patch out of her pocket and offered it to him. "You fly with us. You keep us safe while we do our jobs. We don't report that we've seen you. You come back with us every evening and share our camp, and you'll be part of our pack."

His hand twitched, but he kept his face neutral. "And you want me to protect you from the cockpit of a scavenger ship?"

"We'll bring you whatever parts you need to build the ship you want, and my brother-in-law is one of the best mechanics ever to flunk out of the Cornerian Academy. There are plenty of hands aboard to help."

He studied the offer critically. He _did _need a job, and having his own ship would be a good start, even if it was just scrap. And here was a family. A pack. What he wouldn't give to be at the lead of his own pack again. But what of his old pack? "What about Powalski?"

She bit her lip and exchanged glances with one of her pack-mates.

"You can't turn him in," Wolf shouted angrily. "If you turn him in, I'll make your lives hell. You'll have to turn me in with him."

"We have spoken to the chameleon at length," the male behind her spoke. "He is not receptive to the idea of staying here, and he has threatened the lives of our pups already."

Wolf mentally rolled his eyes. _Nice going, jackass._ He was careful to keep his tone submissive, as the leader of the group did not seem particularly receptive to being shouted at. "Let him go. Let him go with the first operating ship you find, and I'll stay for a year."

The female considered, then nodded and reached forward to cut away the ties binding his wrists.

On impulse, he turned his face and kissed the bottom of her chin, where it met her throat.

She paused, and gave him a slightly surprised stare. "Few wolves remember the tribal language," she said, as much to herself as to him.

"Ius Canis," he replied quietly. "You are the alpha of this pack. I work for you, now."

She nodded with a satisfied smile, and cut the ropes from his wrists, then from his ankles. She stood and offered him a hand up. "Welcome to the Murray Clan, O'Donnel-Murray. I am Morphea."

He stood and took the eye patch from her hand.

* * *

Author's Note: Awww, it's a _fambily_. Not to worry, Wolf's not enough of a softy to get comfortable, though wolven loyalties will become important later in the story. What will happen to Leon? I suppose we'll have to wait and see. 


End file.
